


you didn't get to heaven but you made it close

by RonnieSilverlake



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fill, Serious Injuries, Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1619918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonnieSilverlake/pseuds/RonnieSilverlake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Hell, they can do anything they want with him, as long as Steve is going to be okay.</i>
</p>
<p>In which the Winter Soldier shoots Steve, long since after he stopped being the Winter Soldier, and strictly out of necessity.<br/>Which, of course, doesn't mean there are no regrets afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you didn't get to heaven but you made it close

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fill for [this prompt](http://stevebucky-fest.dreamwidth.org/307.html?thread=921651#cmt921651) on dreamwidth's stevebucky_fest.

He sees Natasha, for a moment, and that's probably what does it for him in the end. In hindsight, he thinks he should feel something like guilt, because this obviously means he must have done something similar to Natasha at one point; but these things – _feelings_ – are still odd to him, foreign, not particularly real. He's a tool, an asset, a weapon – none of those things are capable of emotions.

Natasha is not here, though, and later he is confused about what it could be about her that triggered him into doing what he had to do. He has been wiped so many times, and he has been digging up Bucky Barnes' memories so excruciatingly, he cannot even begin to imagine what it will feel like when he finally reaches the memories of the Winter Soldier. He doesn't remember the time he shot through her; he doesn't know shooting through her _is_ what he doesn't remember, and, for now, it's probably better that way.

He is a little bit of both, now, and he's relearning things most of the time, but then, at other times, he helps Steve out, because Steve is (still? or again?) the realest thing in his life, and Steve returns the feeling in kind, his reassuring being the most solid thing that finally gives Bucky the necessary clearance to accompany him on missions.

Of course, that clearance might just as well be revoked now, and Bucky doesn't even care. Hell, they can do anything they want with him, as long as Steve is going to be okay.

He is, isn't he? Gonna be okay, that is.

Bucky can't really believe he actually did this. Which is funny, in a completely obscene and grotesque sort of way, because a few months prior, he remembers he was astounded over _not_ having killed Steve.

But of course, back then, there was only the Soldier, and now he is more, even if that more is still just a heap of fragments loosely stitched together, and sometimes he just loses it. Still, he doesn't hurt Steve anymore; this is the only solid point in his life he can hold on to, because he _remembers_ Steve, if nothing else – not much from their past, but he remembers the _feel_ of him, the echo of his own once-upon-a-time feelings for Steve.

Gasping for air, he falls to his knees next to the blond's body, and right now, he is so _not_ the Soldier, his carelessness could get them both killed, if it weren't for the fact that the target is already dead.

Yes, he is dead, because Bucky shot him, clear through the heart –

And in the process, he shot clear through Steve's sternum as well.

He knows the serum has made Steve so much stronger – fuck, he's survived being shot by Bucky _three times_ already, with the addition of having been thrown into the Potomac straight afterwards from about a mile up in the air. But those weren't such clear, close-range shots, Bucky tells himself while he tries not to panic, and also tries not to feel utterly pathetic, because a soldier like him is _not supposed to_ panic.

Maybe the suffocating guilt is about the fact that not only did Steve not fight back this time, he told him to do it – even if it was for entirely different reasons than what he did on that helicarrier.

And ultimately, there is not much to do but to panic, because Bucky is no healer, and Steve is strong, yes, but he is still not _immortal_ , and if he dies – _oh God, if he dies._ Then what was the point of even coming back?

Bucky thinks, if Steve is going to die, then he's _damn right_ going to follow, because he sure as hell won't be able to deal with that kind of emotion, after not having had any emotions for such a long time, and he sure as hell won't get wiped again; not only because there is nobody to do it, but also because he knows it would turn him back into being a killing machine, and Steve would –

Disapprove.

But then, just as Bucky cradles Steve's head on his thigh, and is on the verge of laughing hysterically with sheer hyperventillation, the Captain, who has been deadly still until now, suddenly comes to, rolls on his side, away from Bucky, and starts coughing blood onto the already crimson-smeared pavement. And ten seconds later, the ambulance arrives, and Natasha _is_ there, and even if Bucky still can't remember whatever he possibly did to her, the withering look she gives him is definitely enough to make him feel _really fucking guilty_.

–

Steve wakes in a hospital bed with a bandage over his chest that feels actually thicker than his chest, and an incredibly warm weight on his thighs. The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is a mop of long, tangled brown hair, and a set of metal fingers curling into the bedsheets over his stomach. Bucky doesn't open his eyes until the pads of Steve's fingers run gently down his jawline, the blond's lips curling into a light smile at the still unfamiliar touch of the short beard he has actually gotten quite attached to ever since he's gotten the other back.

“You're up.” His voice is rough, hoarse, kind of like gravel. Steve's amused smile melts into something much warmer and more genuine (if that's even possible, Bucky thinks, when literally all of Steve's smiles are genuine; it's like he doesn't know how to lie).

“Did you expect something different?” Steve asks, and there is mirth in his eyes, even if laughing would probably still hurt. When Bucky turns his head and presses his face into the blanket, Steve realizes it was not the right thing to say. “Hey... I'm fine, you know.”

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters, and his voice is muffled, but even then, Steve thinks it sounds shaky. “But you didn't know that. When you made me shoot.”

“I've had worse,” Steve counters, now frowning as he sifts his fingers through Bucky's hair. “Buck, look at me. I'm fine. I knew I'd be, I swear.”

Bucky does look up, and his bottom lip is trembling slightly, and Steve really doesn't understand (okay, perhaps he does, somewhere very deep down, but it's not something he can phrase for himself) how it is that someone as fearless as this man could be so unnerved from the simple thought of him being harmed, especially considering that he was, at one point, his target. “You're such a fucking lousy liar, Steve.”

Okay, maybe it's precisely _because of_ that.

Bucky sits up, and straightens his spine, and avoids looking into Steve's eyes, but he does leave his hand on the blanket, and he doesn't pull away when Steve curls his own hand around it. He used to – pull away, that is, not let Steve touch his metal arm –, so this, too, is supposed to be a good sign. “You've dragged me out, you know. Mostly. I don't think I'll ever be _fully_ out of it, but I'm more out of it than I thought I ever would,” he says, and Steve is so confused, he doesn't even know where to begin asking questions. “I can't go back to it again. To being the Winter Soldier.”

Steve opens his mouth, and then closes it again, wishing he knew the good thing to say. Why does Bucky think anyone is making him –

He remembers a moment later, and his eyes widen in horror, but Bucky says it out before he can.

“What you made me do back there. The way you said it. I… don't think I had a choice. It was exactly the same. I – don't ever make me do that again, Steve.” He looks at him now, and his eyes are hard, and Steve would probably recoil from how angry he actually looks, if it weren't for the fact that he can also tell that underneath the anger, Bucky is also honest-to-God _terrified_.

“I won't,” he says very softly. “I swear.”

This time, it's most definitely not a lie.

 


End file.
